Without warning V added it to our repertoire acknowledging I probably knew it already.
I’m a complete fool about singing lessons, readily seduced by life “on the other side”, a slave to new priorities. But this seemingly simple project made me wary. V’s decisions rarely lack reason. Besides, she warned me: “You’ll go crazy trying to sing ‘lady’ properly.”
V was right. Most lines end with an enforced rest so no languishing there. Also “la-” and “-dy” carry the same time value so singing “ladee” is forbidden. But “la-” (pronounced lay) is a long vowel, while “-dy” (pronounced di) is short and it’s remarkably difficult to balance out the two sounds without chopping off the second abruptly. Further, the general speed is faster than most amateurs realise (a common fault with amateurs) and singing faster helps with “lady” even if it doesn’t resolve things.
Minor problems? Not quite. I now no longer sing casually but from the score. The suspended tadpoles mean something. V points out other non-intuitive matters and I take these aboard. In the final two lines:
Riv’lling the glittering sunshine,
With a glory of golden hair
I’m encouraged to swell (ie, increase then decrease the volume) on “glory”.
I used to enjoy singing the song from memory for myself. But as my corruptions are stripped away and Handel’s intentions become clear, the disciplined experience becomes something else entirely. I’m taking precise instruction from one of the world’s great composers. Doing his bidding. An utterly seduced fool.
Note: Thomas Allen clip was musically defective and has been removed.
I'd love to hear you sing. Could/would you post a link to a vid of you singing one of your favorite songs? If you are shy about appearing before a camera, you might consider standing behind a screen?
ReplyDelete(However, I think if you are willing to sing for your audience, you ought to own it - no screen obscuring your performance.)
I'm serious about hearing you sing, only half so about the screen.
'T would be good to hear you singing, I agree. All those rolled 'r's. An art. I admire you taking on new challenges. It's inspiring. 'Good on you', as we say here.
ReplyDeleteCrow: I am not shy. Never in this world. I'm surprised you've not noticed. How many times have I sent you away in a vehicle known as a huff?
ReplyDeleteMy lessons started two-and-half years ago. Once MikeM had introduced me to Picosong (ideal for adding audio to blogger posts) I offered perhaps a dozen links to recordings of my musical progress. Almost all of them were a mistake, issued far too early. Since most commenters kept their opinions (assuming they had any) to themselves I brought this nonsense to a close. I am not complaining; only someone trained in the singing business could have responded intelligently to those half-formed attempts.
There are several reasons. First, I record my singing into my desktop at home. This means there is no accompaniment. A capella is often hard to take even from pros; with students it draws pitiless attention to every defect.
Second, I was still struggling to sing with my own singing voice since in those days it came and went. As a result I often imitated pros I'd heard and the songs emerged too low, too slow, too plummy, straining to be expressive. A real dog's breakfast.
Third and possibly most important, in those days I lacked consistent resonance in what I sang. The notes may have been properly pitched but they weren't always convincingly musical. This still remains a bit iffy and must be chased down with longer warm-ups. I'm not always patient enough for such sessions.
Finally there was what I sang. I have very lttle time left and it never made sense that I should bother with what my best friend used to call Fairies-in-the-Dell music, simple stuff for beginners. I needed to sing that which I already loved and admired. V recognised this and at my first lesson had me trying a bass-baritone aria from Mozart's opera The Magic Flute. As I've said before when I broke down in tears at the sheer glory of what I was attempting we both knew that V was on the right track. Since then it's all been grown-up stuff. Most recently an impossibly difficult but incandescently beautiful song (Purcell's An Evening Hymn) which V herself sang in the final test of her musical education.
I'd love to sing An Evening Hymn and record it. But I'd hate it that those listening would have to make allowances. Here's what Beth said and she sings in a cathedral choir:
Well, good on you, Robbie. I've listened to the Evening Hymn twice -- your version, and one with Emma Kirkby, to get a better sense of what it would feel like in my range. This sort of piece is a far greater challenge, I think, than fast stuff. Every wobble shows, every inaccuracy or inconsistency, and the lines require a great deal of breath and also finesse. I'm so proud of you for your tenacity in this endeavor, and believe me, I know how good it feels when you've made teal progress and done some justice to a great work like this one. Bravo.
When Beth says "your version" she refers to a YouTube clip recorded by a professional baritone and merely recommended by me.
I've gone on too long. I have one or two ideas and I'll explain them and my doubts later on. The video I rule out, not from timidity but due to the logistics of trying to engineer it.
Kay: See above.
I would also like to hear you sing. I understand the logistics are likely prohibitive, but it would be great to hear you singing something you are proud of.
ReplyDeleteWell, honey, there are 'huffs' and there is righteous indignation. I like to think that most of those times you allude to were the latter, not the former...but, who can tell for certain.
ReplyDeleteI suppose more than anything, I'd just like to hear your voice, singing or not, to put with the face I've seen here, and the personality I've surmised from your postings. I admire anyone who sings, who studies singing.
My daughter has a lovely voice, sang in school choirs, in talent competitions. She also writes songs. Still, her singing would improve tremendously with training. I don't know what she needs to work on, only that lessons would improve what she has.
As others have already stated, good for you taking the time to improve what you already have.
Colette: The logistics I referred to concern self-filming not self-recording. I am - perhaps - moving toward the latter. See my second response to The Crow.
ReplyDeleteCrow: Going off in a huff doesn't mean you were necessarily in the wrong. Only that you were pissed off. I'm inclined to believe all the faults were mine. I'm a bit of a bastard that way, wrongly imagining that it adds to my appeal.
I have about three-dozen recordings of songs I have sung. All represent the tips of icebergs, the latest after many false starts. Last night with some apprehension I started re-listening to them and it was a mixed experience. I resumed early this morning but because the rest of the house sleepeth I plugged in my hi-fi earphones instead of using my cheap computer loudspeakers. With a few gross exceptions (mostly going flat at very prominent moments) I was pleasantly surprised.
However there was one prevailing omission. The tracks merely render the songs, there is no attempt at interpretation, and playing them one after the other emphasises the monotony. I decided to limit my selection to four tracks: (1) A typical warm-up exercise to show what my voice is basically capable of, (2) A beautiful song, but of limited range, demonstrating how I can sing when not under any technical pressure, (3) A slightly more complex song in a different style for the sake of variety, and - if I feel confident and, more important, fairly sure I do not risk betraying a masterpiece - (4) A stab at An Evening Hymn, to hint at how far I've come.
Almost inevitably you will be disappointed but I have to accept that.
Singing lessons are an expensive indulgence in these penurious times. But if your daughter truly loves singing (and it sounds as if she does) having a teacher won't just improve her technical abilities, it will provide her with the inexpressible luxury of someone who is briefly her gifted companion on a journey of exploration and self-development. My Monday morning hour - hugely anticipated - passes like a flash, often leaving me drained with delightful fatigue. I am a different person, more self-centred of course, but - oh, the ecstasy! - part of music not just a member of the audience.